Accepting Darkness
by omoide no mori
Summary: AC. Celas is still in the stages of adjustment to her new life. Better than it sounds. RR
1. Amnesia

**Amnesia**

  


  


Author's Notes: Hi! I see you've stumbled onto my little fic. I'd like to start by saying that I'm new to the series. I haven't even finished it and I'm so inspired! So I began this despite my better judgment. Eh. I... don't really have a title. Just a crappy working one, and I don't know where I'm going with this story. Guess we'll see on down the line, right? One thing I do know is that it's an Alucard/Celas fic. Love the couple! Please give it a shot and tell me what you think. And if I'm getting the characterization wrong, tell me in a review and I'll work to correct it in later chapters. Bye!  


  
  


  


As she awoke to blackness, the silk coverlets of her coffin reassured her she was safely snug in her residence at Hellsing Manor. The pleasantly smooth fabric shifted as she stirred, pulling over her abdomen and tickling the flesh beneath her breast. Distractedly, she yawned, moving her hand to find the sheet.

_That's odd,_ she thought, fumbling in the dark for the coffin's release. _Why am I so ticklish this morning?_

The lid rose, revealing a waning moon framed by the black curtains of her window. Though only a sliver, its light strongly silhouetted the contours of her room, detailing in stark clarity the messy state of her quarters. When she glanced down, it also illuminated something a little unsettling.

"Wha-?" Her eyes registered her shock, but the sweatdrop that hung by her head suggested she wasn't as worried by her discovery as one might be. "When did I take off my clothes...?"

A look over the edge of her bed to the floor uncovered her missing apparel. The angle of moonlight didn't allow for a decent view of the articles, although she could already tell by the patches of darkened fabric that they must be speckled with blood from a recent battle. Raising her eyes to the table in the center of her chamber, Celas saw Walter had already made his morning rounds and left her a bucket of medical blood in ice. She frowned in distaste.

Extending her sense of perception, Celas checked for a nearing presence. She didn't want to be caught in the buff, after all. Then she emerged from her bed slowly, stiffly, and popped her joints one by one. Her muscles were unusually sore this morning, she noted. She surmised the battle the night previous must have been tough. Too bad she didn't have memory of it. Sighing her disregard, she walked to her closet and rifled through the line of military sanctioned uniforms.

As she dressed, Celas wondered what the new night had in store for her. _Nothing strenuous,_ she hoped, but hopes had never counted for much in her experience. Still, wishful thinking eased tension from time to time, and she had a lot to ease tonight.

Finishing the last lace of her boot, Celas rose with a stretch, cracking the vertebrae in her lower back one final time. She strode toward the door, carefully avoiding the table on her right. The pull of chilled blood was strong, however, and she halted at the door, fangs elongated and nose twitching with the metallic scent. Celas turned, lip curled to bare one protruding fang as she eyed the medical blood. Its presence tugged at her desires, especially tonight when she was tired and weak from fighting.

"Go," she told herself, forcing her legs to propel her out the door and into the security of the hall. She shut the door behind her with an ominous clang that echoed accusingly down the corridor. Perhaps it was just her own guilt, but she could feel her master's stern gaze, alerted by the sound. Quickly, Celas fled to down the hallway, putting as much distance as she could between herself and her condemning room.

It was only when she reached the staircase that led to the upper floor of Hellsing that she finally slowed, softly panting for air – redundant, but an old habit she couldn't shake. Walter stood at the top of the stairs, mop in hand as he scrubbed the second floor. He smiled thinly when he saw her.

"Ah, Miss Victoria. Glad to see you are up and running." Walter grinned at his own joke, pausing in his work. "I was worried that you would sleep the night through; your injuries were rather extensive."

Celas stared at him, puzzled. Besides her groaning joints and weary muscles, she felt fine.

Walter must have seen the confusion on her face, for he continued, "So you have no memory of it, I see. That is not altogether unusual. Fledgling vampires often enter a state of unconsciousness – a trance, say – when they have many wounds that require much of their energy to heal." He resumed washing the floor. The glint of refracted light from his monocle concealed his eyes from her, veiling his expression. "Nosferatu such as Alucard have greater reserves of energy to feed upon to aid in healing, thus it is unnecessary to shut down all bodily functions. Sleep is all that is required to restore a true vampire to his full power."

"I see," replied Celas for lack of a better response. Walter's endless wellspring of information, though useful, caught her off guard. Speaking with Walter often brought back memories of her schooling, and reliving any portion of her past now that she was a vampire was unsettling yet comforting in its familiarity. Bittersweet.

"Not to worry, Miss Victoria," Walter reassured with a smile. "I'm sure you will gain in strength before long."

Celas nodded her gratitude for the gesture. "I hope so, too." And she did. She liked to remember her 'life', even if it was bleak and full of hurt. Missing time left her with a feeling of being incomplete. She would have to overcome that feeling eventually. She had a great deal of time ahead of her now, after all.

Waving to Walter, Celas ascended the staircase and proceeded to her boss's quarters at a slower pace. Since she woke later than normal, she was already going to be late for her nightly assignment. Miss Hellsing would surely vocalize her displeasure, but a few extra minutes would do nothing to worsen or lighten her tone.

Integral Hellsing – her master's master. A powerful, frightening woman driven with a vengeance spurred from a horrible past. Even so, she was too severe, in Celas's opinion. If Miss Hellsing had never taken her in those years ago, Celas would respect her only for her fierce determination and raw might – things she had often wanted for herself. Now, however, Celas was obligated to Miss Hellsing. Integral deserved her loyalty regardless of whether or not she agreed with the harsh woman's actions. Integral deserved her respect for this reason, as well. More importantly, though, Integral deserved her respect because her master respected her.

But that didn't necessarily mean Celas liked her very much.

The large, wooden doors to Miss Hellsing's chamber stood closed. The gold handle twinkled coldly at her, hinting at what she would encounter within. Celas grasped it hesitantly, drew a deep breath, and turned the handle.

The high-backed chair in front of the ancient, oak desk faced the window like always, backlit by the moon. A tall figure stood off to one side, propped against the wall by one cinched curtain. Celas couldn't make it out, but she suspected it to be the figure of her master. The sole indication of Integral's existence within the chamber was the faint curl of smoke drifting from the chair.

Integral Hellsing addressed her subordinate without turning. "You're late, Celas. Explain yourself."

The days after Integral's change had been rough on everyone in the agency. She was quicker to anger, reproachful, and cold to her subjects, including Alucard. Maybe it was because she was bitter at herself for what she had become – one of the monsters she fought so hard to eradicate. Celas understood only that her boss now held no forgiveness for those who didn't make their duty their life.

Having no excuse she could substantiate, Celas was about to apologize when Alucard withdrew from the shadows.

"Miss Celas has been incapacitated, Miss Hellsing. The severity of her injuries necessitated a long rest to fully heal." Alucard's sharp eyes studied Celas's form, sans glasses. He didn't seem to notice when she squirmed beneath his gaze. "Are you fully recovered, Celas?"

"H-Hai, Master," Celas stuttered, surprised that her master would come to her defense. Her focus flit from Alucard to Integral and back again. "I feel fine, so I suppose so."

"Suppose, Celas?" Integral swiveled around to frown crisply down her nose at her underling. The red of her irises lent a menacing appearance to an already unsympathetic visage.

Once again, Alucard surprised Celas by jumping to her defense. "Likely, she doesn't remember. It's a side effect of her recovery at this stage of her metamorphosis."

Integral glared coolly and said nothing. Instead, she resumed her watch of the fields outside the window, puffing her cigar. The smoke hung about her head in a thin mist. Celas thought it befitting; since her transformation, Integral's head was always caught in a perpetual fog, her true personality lost in a haze of resentment.

"Remove yourself, Alucard," Integral commanded. "And take your pet with you."

Alucard leveled a look at his master solemnly, then, bowing courteously, approached the bristling Celas. "Come."

Swallowing the contemptuous retort at the edge of her lips, Celas muttered a tense, "Hai, Master," and followed his lead into the corridor. Her fists dangled clenched at her sides, and her gaze trained ahead at the heels of her master's black boots.

_The _nerve_ of that woman! Treating me as if I'm some kind of... some kind of..._

"Animal?" Alucard supplied smartly. He stopped some distance from Integral's office, far enough away that even the ultra sensitive ears of a vampire couldn't overhear. When he turned to her, a smirk adorned his face.

Celas hated when her master listened to her thoughts. It was an invasion of her privacy! And, of course, Alucard knew that. The irritation she felt showed plainly in the tweak of her mouth. Celas wondered if the No Life King got his kicks from causing those around him grief.

"Ne... She didn't have to be so callous!" she remarked, gaze livid with repressed anger. Oh, how she wished she had her Halconnen...

Alucard regarded her impassively. "She's under much stress, recently. Vampire attacks have escalated in the passing weeks, have they not? As Commander, do you believe she's not under pressure to put an end to this ceaseless battling?"

Celas quit seething as she digested his logic. In all this time working for Hellsing, she hadn't considered that Integral must take orders from a higher chain of command. Celas knew she did, of course, on a subconscious level, but the matter of her boss's suffering – the pain that wasn't internal – had never crossed her mind.

Somewhat ashamed, if only a little, Celas said, "Still, she had no right to belittle me like that."

Alucard remained silent, unbothered by her aggravation. His stare was blank, calculating.

Intense.

Celas felt a rush of heat in her cheeks and cursed herself for a hormonal teenager. But without the orange glasses, her master's eyes... They were the deepest crimson – beautiful, sinister,

(sexy)

captivating pools of blood set into sockets that suggested a man of foreign descent. Framed by ebon strands of thick hair, the mesmerizing quality of those red irises magnified tenfold. Her master was...

Striking.

Alucard bent forward minutely, though his prodigious height brought him closer by mere inches; Celas would still have to strain to reach his neck. His gaze traveled over her flushing face, stoic and analytical, and down past her chin to her high collar. Celas idly wondered if he was searching for something.

A white-gloved hand grasped the belt at her waist. She gasped as his fingers nimbly worked the clasp, unfastening the leather support and keeping hold of it when it fell free. His other hand pulled at the hem of her blue uniform shirt as he knelt before her.

"Master, what-?"

He pushed the shirt up past her ribs to just below her breasts, exposing the underneath of her white bra. Celas jerked, stunned and a tad offended by her master's bold actions, and grabbed his arm on reflex.

"Female Officer," Alucard spoke soothingly, a trace of teasing in his deep tones, "I'm merely inspecting your wounds." Then he smiled, a mischievous turn of the lips. "Unless there is something else you would have me do..."

Celas shook her head vigorously, eyes wide with the insinuation. Her grip on her master's forearm flagged, arms falling limply to her sides. She watched him compliantly, struggling to regain control of her breathing as Alucard resumed his examination of her abdomen, peering closely and faintly touching the smooth skin of her stomach.

After several tense moments passed, Alucard rose, letting gravity manipulate her shirt to its rightful place. He handed her the belt. "No residual scarring. A clean heal in under a day. You are very fortunate, Female Officer."

Having no knowledge of the true nature of her injuries, Celas could only manage an unsteady, "Arigato."

"Go to bed. Rest," said Alucard, walking away. "You have no assignment tonight." His form flickered, disappearing into the stone wall.

"Matte!" she called out, but he was already gone. She wouldn't find him again tonight unless he wanted to be found. With questions burning in her mind, Celas continued to the stairs. The beginnings of a headache were taking root in her temples, and she figured a rest in the dark confines of her room might be what she needed. With the black belt held loosely in her right hand dragging the floor, Celas trudged down the corridor alone.


	2. Where I Belong

**

****Where I Belong**

"In the chest, I said!"

The explosive discharge of a military rifle. Stuffing burst over the simulated battlefield,   
one mannequin toppling without the support of its leg. The soldier squinted through the debris,   
trying to discern his effectiveness in disabling the fake target.

His instructor, Celas Victoria, seized the gun from the soldier's hands. Positioning the   
weapon on her shoulder, she aimed carelessly and fired a shot at the fallen mannequin. The   
shell entered the chest, scattering the upper torso of the dummy across the grass. Then she   
threw the gun to her startled student.

"I told you, the chest! We're fighting vampires, not humans. A missing leg is a minor   
distraction to the enemies we'll be up against!"

"Y-Yes, Ma'am."

Celas sighed deeply, irritation in the fine lines of her face. _Why,_ she wondered, _can't   
these recruits seem to understand simple procedure? _She ignored the fact that she herself   
was once new and trained in the style of the police force. Celas left her student to maim a fresh   
target, venturing toward the building that housed the break room and bathroom facilities. A   
respite from the stench of gunpowder and boom of military fire might do her a world of good.

The Hellsing Agency began recruiting numbers in the thousands a few weeks ago.   
Precautions, Celas was sure, but the current state of the organization was always veiled in mystery   
to even those with high status. Celas thought that perhaps the only people who knew the true   
standing of Hellsing were the Commander herself and Alucard. But while Celas had an interest   
in knowing exactly how hard up the Agency was in its holy war, asking either of the two lacked   
appeal. Integral had been unreasonably cold to her of late, and her master... Well, Alucard   
seemed to enjoy keeping her in suspense.

Celas strode into the break room with her head held high. The officers occupying the   
many tables glanced up to see who had entered and watched her go to a vending machine with   
wary eyes. The soldiers killed her kind, and they held no trust for the vampires who aided their   
cause. Celas ignored them and removed the change from her pocket, counting out the sixty-five   
cents that would score her a Milky Way.

"You're pretty good with that gun," a voice remarked from behind.

Celas recognized the melodic tenor of Michael Rowen, a soldier brought in with the last   
batch of recruits. Handsome fellow, Celas had thought, but careless. With his trusting,   
lighthearted personality and his youthful optimism, Michael made friends too easily. The way he   
had approached her the first day, even after the warnings of her 'condition' issued by veteran   
members of the squad, proved that. A good trait for a man; a bad trait for a soldier.

"How silly of me; of course you are!" He laughed, a musical, lilting sound. Celas found it   
suspiciously naïve. "Forgive me."

"What is it, Michael?" prompted Celas, walking back toward the exit, away from prying   
ears. Truth be told, she didn't want the company at the moment. Especially not when it drew such   
unwanted attention.

Michael scratched at his scalp with a forced smile. He was the perfect picture of   
apprehension. "Ano... I, uh, was kinda wondering if you wanted to... you know... have lunch with   
me...?" The faltering statement was followed by a series of garbled gagging noises. "That is – I   
mean, uh – If, um-"

"I'm sorry," Celas responded curtly, "but I have to get back to work." She crumpled the   
Milky Way wrapper in her fist and threw it into a nearby receptacle, cutting past the blushing   
newbie smoothly.

Michael, pride quite wounded, was attempting to sort out just where he went wrong. He   
turned to view the retreating figure of Celas as she advanced briskly to the field. "Maybe some   
other time, then," he called, hoping she heard over the din of gunfire.

Celas didn't bother to acknowledge.

As she headed to her designated post, Celas questioned her actions. Why did she   
have to be so cold to him? He only asked her to sit and eat with him. She could have handled   
that, right?

_Because I'm a vampire, now_, she answered herself. _I don't belong in the world of   
humans anymore..._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Several hours later, Celas deposited herself on her fluffy mattress with a sigh. The   
assignment of training new officers had only recently been appended to her list of duties.   
Integral must have thought she had nothing to do but lounge around all evening and so decided   
to give her the extra task. Celas would have rather done without the leery stares of her so-called   
comrades.

One hand snaked beneath the pillow, curling around the soft item to pull it close so   
she could bury her face in it. The linen smelled of rosemary – a common scent in the halls   
of Hellsing Manor. Its basis in religious lore must have appealed to the lady of the manor.   
Celas enjoyed the floral aroma. It reminded her of her youth, the simple days with her parents...

She lay on her back, facing the cherry varnish of the coffin lid above. She played idly   
with the buttons of her shirt, fastening and unfastening as she slipped deeper into memory.

_"How do I look, Mommy?" A young Celas Victoria jumped excitedly on the   
stoop of the church, grinning wide enough to show a full set of newly permanent teeth.   
She spun, twirling the tips of her blue dress high enough to expose her slip. She giggled   
merrily at her mother's frown._

_"Behave yourself, Victoria! You're in the House of God, now." Then she smiled,   
a vibrant, radiating smile she saved for her daughter alone. "But you look darling,"   
she said with a wink. _

_"Darling!" Victoria repeated with glee while bouncing on her toes. _

_"Yes, sweetie. Now hurry with Mommy inside." She extended a delicate hand.   
"Daddy's waiting for us." Victoria giggled and let her mother escort her into the   
church and down the aisle. _

_The minister was an aged man, wizened and traditional. He gave his sermon   
in a candlelit chapel surrounded by the motivating scent of rosemary incense. When asked,   
he said the atmosphere made him feel the presence of God. With his failing vision,   
he could imagine that God could attend his mass, and he would speak with passion   
and never forget who he served. _

_Victoria liked the minister. She called him Father John and pretended she had   
two daddies. This would always provoke a smile from the old minister. The Father   
treated her like his own in return, often meeting her after mass and lifting her up to   
ride on his shoulder while he gathered his notes and bible from the podium. Then he   
would set her down and they would go around the room blowing out candles until only   
the incense remained lit. _

_Father John knew how much she loved the incense, so he let her smother the   
wicks while he watched affectionately as she flit about the room, dancing and laughing.   
Once finished, Victoria returned to his side and embraced him in a tight hug. _

_When her real father died, the church became her home away from home.   
She sought peace within the sanctum of the church and Father John. She assimilated   
his beliefs, relying on the smell of rosemary to bring her closer to God in trying times.   
Her laughter faded in those granite halls, but her mind was at ease in the dim light   
of the chapel. _

"Father," Celas whispered. Her hand, seeking the cross that had been ever-present   
at her collar, came away empty.

But that was many years ago. The girl who felt safe in Father John's arms was dead.   
May she rest in peace.

Celas, disciple of the night, redirected her attention to the casket in which she lay.   
The sheets were a fine silk; Integral treated her soldiers well for their service, current   
disposition excluded. Celas would have preferred red, however, to drab white, but she   
knew better than to be picky. A bed such as this had been a dream to her (sans power coffin   
lid, of course). Whether or not the sheets were her color was a petty gripe.

Besides, it's not like she had anyone to impress.

The episode with Michael surfaced briefly. Celas groaned. She would have to apologize.   
Even if she was a vampire now, she still had her old personality. The old Celas would be   
appalled by the rude behavior she displayed today. Vampire Celas was no different. The dull   
ache of remorse settled over her heart. Tomorrow. She would find him and apologize tomorrow.

That didn't change her mind about dinner, however.

As if cued, Walter rapped twice at her door. After a pause, he opened it and entered her   
room, a tray laden with a bucket and dinnerware in one hand. He set the tray on her table before   
addressing her with a smile.

"How is the Lady Victoria this evening?"

Celas sighed dramatically and rolled to view him fully. She propped her chin on folded   
arms, saying, "She took a holiday, I'm afraid. Super-Bitch Victoria is present in her stead."

Walter chuckled. "I see. Then you may help yourself to her meal, Madam. And please   
send Lady Victoria my regards."

"Will do, Sir." Then remembering her title, Celas corrected, "I mean, go away! Leave   
me alone to brood in peace!" The pseudo-demanding face she wore was less than convincing,   
and she knew it. She sweatdropped, chuckling lightly.

Walter rolled his eyes with a hint of a smirk as he departed. "As you wish, Madam."

Celas waited until the door clicked softly before she eyed her meal. _Will I be able   
to eat it? Or will I chicken out again?_

Stepping out of bed, Celas wandered to the table and plopped into a wooden chair.   
The smell of blood wafted to her nostrils, pungent and strangely alluring. A bowl and spoon   
were set neatly for her on a placemat. All she had to do was rip the tip of the blood packet   
and pour it into the bowl. _So easy,_ she thought. _But..._

"Master?" Celas spoke to the silence, head bent shamefully.

Seconds passed before he replied. His throaty baritone rumbled from every corner   
of the room. "Yes?"

Uncertainty stalled her voice. Showing weakness in front of her master worried her.   
What if he decided she wasn't fit to be part of Hellsing? A vampire who couldn't even drink   
blood... How disgraceful.

"Why-" she began, but her throat was constricted. She cleared it and tried again.   
"Why can't I force myself? Wh... What am I? I don't belong to humans. I don't even   
belong to vampires if I can't drink blood. Master, where do I belong, then? Can you tell me?"   
Tears threatened her eyelids, and she squeezed them tightly to stanch the flow. Suddenly all   
she wanted was for him to appear. She wanted it so desperately.

"I'm here," he said, and this time the voice came from behind her. Celas felt his hand   
on her shoulder and shuddered as her dam broke, tears spilling over her cheeks and into the   
bowl below, glittering and running together in her vision. A strained sob welled in her throat,   
and she spun to embrace her master, trembling and sobbing into his black suit.

Alucard stroked her hair absently, his eyes gazing unemotionally at the strawberry-blonde   
head at his abdomen. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I've made a mistake."

* * *

Author's Notes: I am irritated. Fanfiction.net keeps taking my story off. Argh! *Fumes* Anyways, I'd like to say thanks to those who reviewed. It showed two before it went all to hell, and I only got to read one. I think the reviewer was DarkLeech, if I recall. By the way, I'm sorry if I misremember or spell your name wrong -_-*. I'd also like to tell you that I've taken your suggestion about the Japanese words. Ordinarily, I like to keep them in there for the feel of the show, since I think a lot of us watch the subs. But when I thought about where it was taking place, even the anime doesn't seem appropriate for the language. So, after this chapter, there will be no more Japanese terminology. Yay! *Ahem* Anyway... Thanks for the suggestion, DarkLeech. And thank you to everyone else who's reviewed! Please keep the suggestions and comments coming, people! I don't want to get anyone's characters screwed up. That's such a pet peeve of mine... Bye bye! 


	3. A Vague Reality

**

A Vague Reality

**

The four words rang in her ears – leaden; piercing; damning.   
Her worst fears a cavalier utterance from her master's lips. Had   
Celas a functioning heart, she was positive it would have ceased   
beating. As it were, she strengthened her hold around his waist   
to keep her upright in the wooden seat as she fought the dizziness   
overwhelming her senses. Would he abandon her, now? Strip her of   
this trifling purpose in life? Leave her to the gothic dark, alone   
and uneducated – a frail, pathetic creature of shadow that couldn't   
sustain its own wretched existence? The very thought brought bile   
to the back of her throat, and she swallowed thickly with a grimace,   
face still hidden in the black folds of Alucard's suit.

She couldn't bring herself to speak these worries, however.   
Not after she so heedlessly laid her emotions bare to her master's   
scrutiny. Instead, she responded in a wavering, weak voice, "N-No,   
Master. You're wrong."

Alucard continued to stroke her hair, fingers weaving through   
the wayward strands gently. The gesture might have been comforting   
long ago, but he was too displaced from the human sentiment after   
so many bloodstained centuries. All he had to offer was an illusion   
of sensitivity; a memory of muscle that perhaps sprung from a situation   
long forgotten.

He pulled away slightly, just enough to place his hand beneath   
her chin to force her eyes to meet his. He met little resistance; she   
hadn't the will to deny him. "You shiver and lament of your regrets,   
yet you tell me that I'm wrong. What is it, Female Officer, that   
troubles you if not your death to this world?"

The hold on her chin was delicate but firm. Celas wrenched her   
gaze to the side to escape his pitying eyes. She didn't want to see   
disappointment in those crimson depths. Never in the eyes of her master.

"This is what I chose," she stated softly. "I... thought I could   
be strong enough. I thought I could sacrifice my humanity if it meant   
that I could avenge my squad... my friends who died so unfairly in the   
woods those nights." She peered up at him through messy bangs, jaw set   
in memory. Tracks of her tears shone dully in the pale light. "But my   
efforts are unrewarded. The humans I fight to protect cower from me or   
look upon me with hate. They call me a monster, and I can't deny it.   
I kill my own – something I could never do. I wear the colors of my   
enemy, but I feel like an infiltrator, camouflaged but suspect, and   
always the foe in the eyes of my allies. Will I ever shed this doubt,   
Master? Sometimes I... I don't think I'll ever be free of my indecision."

A silence descended. Alucard's gloved hand stayed on her hair,   
unmoving. Celas bit her lip. She no longer felt like crying. It seemed   
the tears were stalled with the onset of a terrible tension. It creeped   
along her spine, chilling and sickening as disease, and tempted her to   
sit straighter in her seat. The need to be close to Alucard was more   
pressing, however. Against her good judgment, she let herself nuzzle his   
stomach, reveling in the protection he offered, for she might not be   
receiving it much longer.

"I chose you, Celas," Alucard's rich tones finally replied, "because   
I saw a strength in you. The makings of a great vampire run through your   
veins, but you deny your nature. You and I..." He trailed as if considering   
his next words. "We are similar."

Clearly surprised by this remark, Celas glanced up. A question came   
to her lips, but he was already continuing.

"Do you honestly believe you are the only one with doubt?" He laughed   
mirthlessly, fangs elongated in his too-wide smile. "Foolish girl! Those   
of us with a shred of compassion are torn between two sides of ourselves: the   
light and the dark. It can take time, Celas. Don't expect the answers you   
seek immediately. Let your feelings war. They will teach you what you must   
understand."

Contrary and quite out of place to the current situation, Celas   
sweatdropped, one eye ticking. _Honestly, are cryptic responses and putdowns   
going to help me?_, she fumed. Out loud, she argued, "Master..."

Alucard cut her off, however, saying, "My master is calling. Release   
me so I can go to her."

Celas complied, albeit begrudgingly. She frowned, turning her eyes to   
the floor near his boots. Integral always came first.

Either Alucard ignored her look of disappointment or he just didn't   
notice. But as he faded into the ceiling, his voice filled the room once more.

"Forget your worries, Celas. There are things more important."

That's easy for him to say... she griped when he was gone. Still, he   
was much comfort to her. Just having his arms around her was enough to   
sooth her frustrations a little. At least until he said that dreaded phrase.

_Is he right? Do all vampires like me go through this? _She cocked her   
head as something occurred to her. _I guess it's only me and Alucard. Well,   
and Helena and those in her convent. Erm, and maybe more that I don't know   
of, but- Augh! Anyway... So that must mean... _

"That he went through the same phase I'm going through," she murmured   
with awe.

But picturing her master in her state of weakness was an image she   
couldn't conjure. He suffered, she knew. She saw it in his eyes at a   
battle's end, or when Integral's tongue cut too deep. Sometimes she even   
felt it through their link – a fatigue wrought by the lapse of ages; a   
pain, dulled by time, that tugged at his heart.

Celas knew her master was strong. He carried himself proudly with a   
confidence gained from his honor and morality. Alucard knew what he was,   
Celas was certain. Perhaps it hadn't always been true. Maybe his sufferances   
were doubts flitting to the fore of his conscience. Doubts about his   
humanity; doubts about his sanity. He may even doubt his own reflection in   
the eyes of God.

_He carries himself so well... What could possibly burden my master?_

There were the rumors of an experiment in the basement of Hellsing.   
Alucard was supposedly... altered.

A chill seized her, and she wrapped her arms about herself, glancing   
suspiciously at her surroundings. She was never one for scary stories.   
When one of her old teammates broke into tale around the fire at night,   
Celas listened from beneath a double layer of blankets, snug in her   
sleeping bag. How the guys used to laugh...

Celas shook her head, rising swiftly. No more ruminations of the   
past – hers or Alucard's. Her master was right; worry would offer no   
solution. Besides, tonight was a new battle. Preparation should come   
first in her thoughts.

Without further delay, she set about readying her halconnen for battle.   
The work would give her a much needed release from memory.

  
  
  


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Author's notes: I hope everyone had a great Christmas and New Years. They were blasé for me, but that's nothing new. Anyway, I'm gonna start giving feedback to my feedback, so now for a few responses to reviews: 

Swoot - I know! I've pretty much stopped looking for A/C. I'm sure they're out there, though.

MANDI - Thanks! I haven't really read much in this category (but I should), so it's nice to hear that I'm kinda original.

AmoebaFive - Another affirmation that my characters are indeed in character. Yay! So happy... ^_^* Please don't mind me... And I hope you don't mind having a mind in the gutter, because there are gonna be a lot of those moments.

Lanfear - I just don't understand A/I, either. I mean, there was, like, _a moment_, but nothing of any real substance in my opinion. But to each his own, I guess.

Teiya Renee - Thanks for reading. Keep it up!

Athene - Well, I can use the correct currency without a problem. I just didn't because I'm a bit absentminded and forgot the show was set in England. But about typical Americanisms... I'm American (at least about half), so I can't help but use common expressions and such. I'm sorely unfamiliar with 'Britishisms', and I apologize if I offend anyone. If there's something you really want me to change, tell me and I'll do it in later chapters. Also, the Celas Victoria thing; I'm used to automatically changing the names around. I never considered that Celas would be her first name (don't laugh people! *cries*) since I've never heard of Victoria as a last name. Eh. Thanks for giving me a few things to think about.

KharBevNor - See above for half of your response. As far as episode 8 is concerned, as I've stated before, I've only seen so much of the series. I've seen up to 7 right now. But thanks for pointing it out.

Hustler One - I'm glad you think it's fluid. I've been getting a slightly different impression.

Errie Wyvern - Thanks! I hope I can keep this story to your enjoyment.

Braveheart - Your name brought the lion from the Care Bears immediately to mind (sorry, but I felt obliged to a lapse of vacuity.) I'm with you; Alucard's a tough nut to crack. I love writing his character, though. I just hope I can make the changes in his personality as the story progresses subtle and fluid.

Shelby - Glad you like it!

BloodHound666 - Relaxed and slow, huh? I was worried that I was taking it a bit fast. Of course, I think that about everything I write. Glad to hear it.

Oi! These notes are almost longer than the story, but rest assured that it won't happen again. By the way, I apologize for the length of this chapter. It's just better that I cut it off here, or it'd be a while before I posted again. Keep the comments and suggestions up. They inspire me. Especially tell me if I'm getting too similar to other stories. It'd like to have an original plot, and I eventually will when I figure out where the hell I'm going. Eh. See you next update!

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**Disclaimer: I hadn't put this in yet, since I had it separately. But that was why I had problems. Note to anyone who cares: you can put author's notes or a disclaimer by themselves, just don't call them that in the title. Anyway, I don't own anything but the story. I don't even own the plot; it's been used too much. Make a note that this disclaimer applies through all.**


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